The Missing Nation
by Sere-san
Summary: America goes missing. As the other nations go on the hunt for their missing comrade, they discover things about him that no one has ever known before...some things that might even change their views on him. Follow them as they find hidden secrets about America's past. Fluffiness may be involved, so approach with caution . Rated T because of swear words in the future.
1. A Beginning of Mayhem

Disclaimer: I honestly wish I could own Hetalia, but I don't!

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This is a play off of an old idea I had, of which honestly wasn't working out all that well. X3 So here's my second shot! Quick summary: A nation

goes missing, someone who's more important than everyone originally thinks. As the other nations go on the hunt for their missing comrade,

they discover things about him that no one has ever known before...some things that might even change their views on him.

{Update: Because someone thought that something didn't make much sense...and now that I look back at it, I agree XD)

* * *

It was a quiet day...almost too quiet. Britain looked over his papers one last time so he could prepare for his speech today on the effects of pollution on the

atmosphere, though he doubted anyone would listen. Especially not America. The git was late, as usual. Germany finally called the meeting to order and a flicker of

worry passed through Britain as he eyed America's empty seat.

"Are you listening to me, Britain?" Germany called out with a touch of irritation. Britain looked over and fixed Germany with a blank stare.

"Excuse me?" He replied in the hopes that Germany would repeat his words.

"I said, are you ready to present?" Germany grumbled and motioned for Britain to stand up and start.

"I...well...America isn't here yet." Britain retaliated and shot a glance over at the empty seat. If anything, America would be at the most of ten minutes late. This

was unlike him.

"It doesn't matter. The dummkopf is always late." Germany dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, but-" Britain's phone went off and he recognized the caller ID; it was America. He picked it up, much to Germany's annoyance, and answered it. "Finally! You git, we've been-"

"Britain? It's you? Oh my god I can't believe I'm calling you, but since America's phone has you in the 'in case of emergencies' list, I kind of figured I had no other

choice." The voice on the other end, which was quite obviously female (and unless America turned into a woman...), sounded quite frantic.

"Um, who is this?" Britain asked out of pure curiosity.

"Idiot...it's Massachusetts! Shouldn't you know my voice by now?" The angry state shouted and Britain had to move the phone about a foot away from his ear.

"Massachusetts? What in the blazes are you on America's phone for?" Britain got a few curious looks when he mentioned Massachusetts; someone he still didn't really get along with after the Revolution. The only one out of America's states, his second colony, and a right troublemaker in Britain's opinion...and as far as he knew, America agreed with him on that point.

"Well it's not as though this was my first choice and obviously you're not my favorite person in the world-"

"Likewise, but enough of that and cut to the chase. Why are you using America's phone?" Britain's voiced started to raise a bit and a nervous glint flashed through his eyes. He

wasn't exactly ready for Massachusetts' response.

"I don't know! I seriously don't know! He was over at my place for a few hours, and then he just disappeared! He left his phone and his laptop! He never goes anywhere

without them!" Massachusetts sobbed into Britain's ear, sounding for the second time in her life a pathetic mess.

"He's what?!" Britain sat down hard and nearly dropped his phone. With a cry, Massachusetts hung up; leaving Britain to wonder why she was so worked up in the first place.

"Angleterre, what's the matter?" France got to his feet and walked over to put a comforting hand on Britain's shoulder, who for once didn't shrug it off.

"It's America, he's missing."

* * *

"Think of it as a game. Don't you like games?"

"It's stupid and hurtful, and you know that!" America growled. The firelight flickered, giving off a dark and eerie glow. "I only agreed to this because I wanted to see you again. I wanted to know how you were dealing with life."

"I missed you, to be honest."

"I...I know dude. It's just, the last time we got close things went into complete chaos." America sighed and his companion shuddered.

"Maybe I should go back now, I kind of have a meeting to go to today." With that, America clambered to his feet and made to walk over to the door, and then the fireplace went out.

"Gah! Hold me!" America's companion darted around the room, knocking things over in the process in an effort to get to America. "No more dark! No more dark!"

"Dude, relax!" America's hand flashed into his pocket and brought out his phone. Flicking on the flashlight app, he located his friend...who had crashed into a table and flipped over onto her head. "Brilliant headstand, dude."

"Shut up and help me." The other person grumbled and wiggled back and forth.

"Don't you dare touch her!" A new voice shouted angrily. America moved his phone around the room but didn't see anything.

"Wh-who's there?" America called out as bravely as he could manage. When it came to ghosts (and ghost-like things), he was a complete wuss...but he couldn't let anyone else know that. He needed to keep up his awesome hero image. "I-I'm warning you, I have a machine gun app on my phone and I'm not afraid to use it!"

"Oh yeah, that's totally gonna help the situation." America's friend commented dryly and sarcastically. "Now help me up!"

"If you touch her, I'll have to kill you." The new voice threatened and America shuddered as he felt a hand glamp down on his shoulder. Definitely solid, more than likely human, so there was nothing for America to be frightened about. So then why were his legs still shaking? It was a familiar feeling of dread, a feeling of the past that America had never recovered from.

"Confederacy?"

* * *

Dun Dun Dun~! Heheheh...well, I hope you enjoyed that! Maybe come back for more? Review? Let me know how I'm doing and if there's anything I can do

to improve your reading experience. Maybe you have some ideas? PM me ^.^ or leave a comment. This is going to have a very twisted plot...so bear with

me XD Have a great day!


	2. Our Dear Friend, the Muffin Man

Disclaimer: Oh yeah, I forgot there's technically no need for disclaimers...well then! Moving foward...

.

Thank you all who looked at my last chapter! And a big thank you to the reviewers! (Special thank you to random guest for catching that little section!) Thought

I should clear something up from last chapter. You're about to find out in this chapter that Virginia was America's friend. I won't tell you the exact reason why

they were together (because that would be spoiling the whole plot), but the reason why I wrote that the last time they were together the world almost blew

up...I'm referring to the great Christmas incident of '05. This is not a documented piece of evidence, it was a confidential piece of information that was given to

me by Virginia...without America's knowledge. Don't tell him! Though I wouldn't be surprised if he stumbled by at some point...my point being, after 2005,

Virginia and America decided it would probably be best if they avoided each other for a couple of years until all the talk died down (it probably won't die down until

2020 thanks to New York being a bigmouth and a total dumbass).

* * *

"No, it's the muffin man. Who do you think it is?" Confederacy spun America around so they were face to face. In the faint glow of America's make-shift

flashlight, America could clearly see Confederacy's face. His brother's face was so similar to his, but Confederacy's eyes were grey and sitting close to his left eye

was a small scar; the scar that America himself had left behind. It was a memory that would never fade.

"Do you know the muffin man~?"

"Virginia, shut up!" Conferedacy shouted at his former friend. Virginia finally fell over with a squeak and the hardwood floor thudded as her body

collapsed on it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" America finally stuttered out. He struggled to keep a scream down. It had been forever since he'd seen his brother, and the last time they saw each other they had been fighting each other.

"Fulfilling your plan obviously. I've been listening to you two for a while now about your little plan with Massachusetts to worry Britain into coming to find you. I just want to make it a reality." And with those words, Confederacy grabbed America's shoulders and shoved him into a kneeling position.

"Ngh! Why? Why are you...are you doing this?" America grunted under the weight and strength of his brother. America himself was strong, but when you compared him to Confederacy, Confederacy's strength outmatched his by quite a bit.

"Why? Oh that's easy, because you're a jerk...an utter asshole. You and V.A. are gonna stay right here with me, so no trying to escape. But I'll play fair. If your so called friends can find you, if they even want to find you, I'll give you a pass to freedom." America shuddered at those words. He had used those exact words with the runaway slaves to get back at Confederacy for his unsavory ways. "So tell little Massy to continue with the plan. Don't tell her I'm here, and don't try to drop any hints. Google is my friend these days, so I know all of the code words you used back then." America nodded bluntly and his eyes flickered towards Virginia. Seeing as Massachusetts had his phone, she needed to make the call.

"Massachusetts? Yeah, it's Virginia. The plan's a go...set up the trail of clues.

* * *

"You want me to what? Fine, I'll be over there in a little bit. Understood, good bye Massachusetts." Britain hung up from his second call with Massachusetts. He sighed and rested his face in his right hand. "France, do you mind getting off of me now?" The Frenchman had been leaning on Britain's shoulders, caressing his hair gently and somewhat soothingly. With a sigh, France reluctantly got off of Britain without a complaint.

"So what now?" France asked Britain. He stood up straight, turned around, and then sat on the table with his legs crossed all dainty-like.

"Where's America!?" Canada shouted, taking France and Britain unaware. Canada's face was beet red as though he had been trying to get their attention for a while now.

"I don't know, but Massachusetts asked me to meet her at America's main house. The one in DC." Britain explained, adding some contempt when he said Massachusetts' name aloud.

"Then what are we waiting for? We need to find him!" Canada desperately tugged on Britain's arm in an attempt to get him moving. "France? What about you?"

"Non...I think Amérique is just playing a joke on us. I'd rather not get involved, s'il vous plaît." France gave Canada a soft smile, got up from the table, and glided from the room. The other countries had given up trying to run a meeting without America present. As much as they hated to admit it, they kind of needed him.

"There's only one problem; I have no idea where America's house is." Britain sheepishly glanced down at his hands. He only knew about America's house in New York, not of the one in DC.

"Lucky for you, I do." Canada stated and tugged Britain's arm again. "So come on! Something bad could have happened to him! Don't you care?"

"Of course I bloody well do!" Britain stiffened at the accusation, stood up, and walked towards the door (to Canada's relief). Canada walked beside him as they made their way to the elevator.

"I don't honestly think I've ever heard Massachusetts so upset...well except for that one time when-." Britain paused as his mind flickered back to America's stupid revolution. It was Massachusetts who had been the instigator. It was Massachusetts who had influenced her citizens to attack Britain's soldiers, and then promptly blamed Britain for the Boston "Massacre". It was Massachusetts who had told America to write shit about Britain's boss (at the time) in their Declaration of Independence; calling the King a tyrant.

"Try not to think about it," Canada said softly, so softly that Britain almost didn't hear him, and rested a hand on Britain's shoulder to guide him into the elevator. Britain thought it was a bit of a cruel joke that the elevator music was "Stayin' Alive". This morning it was playing "All by Myself"...kind of like it was predicting the outcome of the day.

"I wish I knew what was going on! This...this is just..." Britain made a funny noise expressing his frustration and massaged his forehead. _Ding!_

"His house is actually a couple of blocks down." Canada took the lead as they walked out of the elevator and out the front door of the building.

"Only a couple of-, are you serious? They why is he so bloody late every time we have a meeting!?" Britain ran a hand through his hair. He was quite obviously irritated with America, but he didn't know the reason why.

"He tends to stay up late and oversleep a lot, so he gets this gigantic-sized cup of coffee every morning so he can stay awake. Of course it doesn't always work, you know." Canada was refering to all the times America had fallen asleep during others' speeches, normally snoring and draped over the table with one hand up by his face...kind of like a baby; which Britain found a little endearing. It reminded him of better times. Out of the corner of his eye, Britain watched a rather pretty girl jog by. She wore a white tanktop and blue running shorts. He also noticed Canada's head turn as she passed the duo.

"Canada?" Britain brought Canada back to reality. Canada blushed a brilliant shade of red and averted his eyes to the ground.

"It's a habit I picked up from France." He muttered shyly and sped up a bit in order to put more distance between them and the girl. "Plus American girls, there's just something about them..." Canada let that statement trail off and Britain silently agreed with him.

"It's the diverse American culture. You'll get used to it." Britain finally smiled and draped an arm around Canada's shoulder.

"Britain, I'm America's neighbor and I _still_ haven't gotten used to it." Canada replied, flashing Britain a side glance. The Brit walked with a bit of confidence in his step as though he knew his way around the streets, which he obviously didn't seeing as he very nearly passed America's house, in which Canada had to grab him and turn him around. It made Canada wonder if Britain was really used to being around American girls, or if he just didn't care. Britain walked up to the door and knocked on it.

"Before we go in, how are you going to treat Ma-" Canada started to say to Britain, and then the door opened slightly. A blue eye peered out and looked both Britain and Canada up and down about three times before the person opened the door more.

"The cavalry has arrived," Massachusetts muttered begrudgingly under her breath as she fixed Britain with a glare. "Oh, hi Canada!" She flung the door open and glomped Canada until he started begging for air, then she released him and welcomed them inside.

"So lovely to be here," Britain shot back as he walked inside last and gave Massachusetts the cold shoulder.

"Look, I don't exactly like the arrangements either." Massachusetts glared daggers at her former "boss" and flicked a loose strand of hair out of her face.

"Likewise." He tossed right back at Massachusetts. "However, it's in my interests to find the yank before he does anything stupid." _Or anything happens to him_, Britain thought to himself.

"Anyways," Canada interrupted before their small argument could escalate. "Is there anything that Britain and I need to know so we can find America?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Massachusetts gave Britain one last glare before flicking her eyes down to her hands as she fished in her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Flattening it out, she read aloud: "So you're looking for America? Fat chance, but here's your clue. You'll need all the help you can get, so much good luck to you. Through air and space they fought in order to get ahead. You want to find the next clue? Just go and ask the red. The final act is your guide, remember that." Massachusetts held out the paper to Canada, but Britain snatched it before Canada could lift a hand.

"What the _bloody hell_ is this supposed to be?" Britain exclaimed as he stared down at the paper. "Red? Act? Air and Space fight?"

"Massachusetts you know the states better than anyone. Do you think you could help? Please?" Canada turned his charms on and Massachusetts found it hard to refuse.

"Uh, sure." Massachusetts grabbed the paper back from Britain. "Air and Space...that could mean the Smithsonian's Air and Space museum."

"Brilliant, now where exactly is that?" Britain sighed and put a hand on his face in exasperation. "Better yet, where did you get that paper?"

"I was messing around with America's laptop and it fell out when I opened the screen up." Massachusetts explained rather quickly, almost as if she had rehearsed her response for that question. "But it also said that if we need help, we should ask 'the red'...whatever that means."

"I think I know." Canada murmured solemnly and took out his phone. "It means we need to call Russia."

* * *

^.^ Thank you for reading and until next time, my friends! Assignment: try to figure out what the riddle means ;-D I already gave out a couple of the answers...good luck!

Also, I know there's a lot of talk about the Revolutionary War...but it'll die down once Massachusetts realizes that America really is in danger. Sorry if it annoys you! And don't worry, in the end Massachusetts and Britain will come to an understanding and will actually be able to hang around each other without one of them making a reference to their history.

Ah, also, someone brought this to my attention. I know that Russia (to what 'the red' was refering to up there...) is no longer Communist...*turns to stare at my Grandparents* Anywho, I was having a hard time finding words to rhyme (because even though I'm a writer, my poetry skills suck big time). Just thought I should explain that! ^.^


	3. Air and Space

Welcome back to Chapter 3! *fanfare plays* Thank you! Thank you! *takes a bow* You're too kind! ^.^ Well...I hope those of you who read the last chapter tried to figure out

what the riddle meant, because it's going to be all cleared up (mostly) in this chapter! So, have any of you ever visited the Smithsonian muesums in Washington DC? Anyone? Foreigners

included? Well about a year ago...at least I think it was a year ago...they added this awesome flight simulator where you get to fly a fighter jet and shoot down random little

enemy planes! My best friend and I pretended that the enemy was an air force of crazed animals and so we're all like: "Die kitty! Bad kitty! Oh shit, stop trying to shoot us down!

You're a very naughty kitty~..." And we're doing these barrel rolls (the machine did it in real time too O.o) and we were both screaming our heads off when we weren't cursing

at the screen. This is basically what the cockpit (yes, that's a thing ;-D ) sounded like.

Me: Turn left! No, your_ other_ left!

Friend: I'm trying! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! ... You missed! What the hell?!

Me: It's not my damn fault, you were moving too much! Aw crap, don't make us crash!

Friend: Don't make me turn this plane around! *waves a fist at me*

Me: Shit! Hands on the throttle! Both hands! Don't-, dude...how dare you crash our awesome fighter plane of doom.

Friend: O.O *bursts out into a fit of laughter* Let's go again!

Me: Fine, but this time _I'm_ going to steer! You'd better shoot straight this time!

Friend: Do you know who doesn't shoot straight?

Me: Who?

Friend: Britain XD (she loves the canon too much in my opinion...*whacks her over the head* Bad Annette! Bad Annette!)

In case you haven't realized it already, I'm kind of on the crazy side! :-D

* * *

"Okay, remind me again why we are in a museum?" Russia looked from left to right and craned his neck to see right above him. In the middle of the room was a space rock. Hanging from the ceiling were about half a dozen different styles of planes and rockets.

"Because America's missing and the clue said-" Canada started as he looked around with an air of awe. About fifteen people were crowded around the space rock and were rapidly snapping pictures of it.

"Da, da, that you needed my help. But I honestly could not care-, oh hey look! A flight simulator!" Russia happily bounded away as his gaze locked onto a sign that had the words "Flight Simulator! Come try it out!" posted on it. There was no way the summons could be refused.

"Oh no you're not! We need to find this clue first, then maybe afterwards you can play around." Britain stopped the overenthusiastic Russian in his tracks and turned him around. "Take a look at the clue again. Is there anything you get?"

"Is that Sputnik?" Russia got distracted again and he stared at a satellite that was on display. Britain, exasperated, waved the note in front of Russia's face frantically.

"Actually, that's a replica! Good, right?" A tour guide walked up as he heard Russia's exclamation.

"Da! Very good!" Russia smiled and ignored Britain's attempts to get his attention.

"Oh you're Russian! Very cool! Very cool indeed!" The tour guide wrapped his arm around Russia's shoulders, which was a little hard seeing as he was a bit shorter than the Russian, and guided him over to a different section. "You may be interested in this section we have right here, which is dedicated to 'The Race to Space'! Which was the contest between the Soviet Union and the United States. They were both trying to get to the moon first, and America succeeded with Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong! No offense to your country of course." He quickly added as he glanced at Russia's face, of whom the smile was growing wider but an aura of dread was surrounding both him and the tour guide. "Haha...maybe I should leave you to your thing, no? Let me know if you want to learn more about something!" The tour guide got out of that situation pretty quickly.

"Apparently Americans just love to get into our faces, da?" Russia said brightly when the tour guide was out of hearing range.

"It appears to be a past time of theirs." Britain and Canada had followed Russia and the tour guide over to the exhibit. Just a little ways behind them, there was a display of missiles and rockets and other crazy stuff that was used during the world wars. It sent a shiver down Britain's spine as he remembered how strong America's military was, but he knew that he could match it with his inventions.

"I remember all of this." Russia walked up to the display cases. In one of them was a letter one of his past bosses had written to America's boss after America had landed two men on the moon. That was when they officially decided to end the Cold War (though Britain wasn't so sure if it technically was over...just in a sort of remission) and work together on achieving new advancements in technology involving space travel. America fangirled over all the new ideas he and Russia had made up together, and it made both of them happy when they presented the ideas to their bosses. "Let me hear that clue again, pozhalyusta."

"So you're looking for America? Fat chance, but here's your clue. You'll need all the help you can get, so much good luck to you. Through air and space they fought in order to get ahead. You want to find the next clue? Just go and ask the red. The final act is your guide, remember that." Britain repeated for Russia. "What do you expect to get out of this?"

"Hey Britain, you should come check this out." Canada said softly and looked up at the ceiling. Britain craned his neck to look up, and hanging from the ceiling was a plane with a face on it.

"It's a World War Two plane. What about it?"

"To its left." Canada urged and pointed to the tip of some giant structure that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Britain followed the tip all the way down, but it didn't even end at the floor.

"Oh my god, is that one of the German missiles?" Britain stared in awe at its size. "I'd almost forgotten what they looked like. They're right big, they are! Damn."

"I know right?" The tour guide magically reappeared at Britain's side. "This one still works too! It was found on a destroyed U-Boat. Pretty neat, am I right?"

"It's still active!?" Britain very nearly had a heart attack and poor Canada's face went as pale as a ghost.

"Hahahahah! You should totally see your faces right now!" The tour guide laughed and attempted to hold his composure. "Oh yeah, we're totally gonna have a live missile in the middle of a public place that has people visiting from all over the world. It would be a huge hit if it went off and-" Britain's hands found the throat of the tour guide and promptly started strangling him.

"Don't you dare ever make a pathetic joke like that ever again! It wasn't funny and you gave me a bloody heart attack and I swear to god war is _not_ a laughing matter so if you ever think..." Britain continued to rant. The tour guide was tearing up and turning a funny shade of blue, but he was still laughing as Canada noticed his shaking shoulders. He had placed his hands on Britain's arms in order to attempt to get them off his throat.

"Br-, Arthur stop strangling the American tour guide!" Canada started begging and pleading with Britain to stop strangling the tour guide, who seemed like he was actually enjoying himself to an extent. Russia was staring intently at a different display case now.

"The final act, hmm? I wonder..." Russia bent down and put a hand underneath the display, removing it to find a piece of paper taped to the underside of it. "Very clever!" Russia got to his feet and walked back over to the other two, and by now Canada was attempting to pry Britain's fingers off the tour guide's throat. "Look what I found!" He opened the piece of paper and started to read it, ignoring the strangulation that was going on in front of his face. "May 7th, 1945. Does this ring a bell? Well I certainly hope it does, because this person is the only one who can help you find the next clue. Look in the museum back in history, the dates before 1980 will certainly help narrow the search. You'll know it when you see it."

"May 7th...that certainly sounds a bit familiar." Britain narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and stopped strangling the tour guide, though he kept his hands on his throat. "What does the date mean to you?" Britain interrogated the tour guide, who was still grinning from their little row.

"You're asking me?" The tour guide stared incredulously at Britain. "Well it sounds like a World War Two date, but we dropped the bombs on Japan in August, so...do you mind getting your hands off my throat? I kind of have some work to do."

"Oh, yeah...sorry." Britain dropped his hands and brushed them off on his pants with a air of embarrassment. He watched as the tour guide confronted a group of Japanese tourists who were crowed around the moon rock and taking pictures.

"Britain, you caused a scene." Canada hid his face from view and Britain looked around at the many people who had stopped and stared at his spat with the tour guide, and quite a few of them had stuck around to witness the resolution.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Britain shrugged the news off casually.

"So now we go to the History museum?" Canada offered hopefully and wrung his hands together nervously.

"Nyet, now we go play the Flight Simulator!" Russia grabbed Canada's wrist and tugged him over to the room.

"No! No! I want to live!" Canada whimpered as they disappeared into the room. Britain sighed and walked up to the souvenir counter, collecting his thoughts as he did so.

"May I help you?" The lady behind the counter, her name badge read "Lauren", looked up from re-stocking and asked Britain.

"Uh, yes. Could I have a candy bar?" Lauren straightened up and a smile shone on her face.

"Sure thing!" She reached below and grabbed out a some chocolate. "Holiday? Vacation?"

"Sort of." Britain replied and watched the price being rung up. It came to a total of three US dollars and fifty cents, and Britain fished out the cash from his pocket to pay for it. "Thank you."

"Have a wonderful day!" Lauren smiled and waved at Britain as he walked over to stand outside the flight simulator room. Britain unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite of it, immediately regretting his choice.

"Ugh. Damn, I forgot that American chocolate is over-the-top sweet." He made a funny face and wrapped the candy bar back up in its wrapper.

"That was fun!" Russia happily walked out and Canada staggered out behind him muttering something about wanting the world to stop spinning. "Let's do it again!"

"N-no...no more. Britain, help me." Canada pleaded as his legs wobbled violently, threatening to give out. Britain rushed over there and steadied his friend, before leading him over to the wall where he sat down on the floor. Then as an added treat, Britain gave Canada the candy bar.

"Wh-what is this?" Canada asked Britain softly and tentatively took the chocolate.

"It's American chocolate. I figured you'd enjoy it more than me." Britain replied gently, and Canada nodded and nibbled on a corner.

"What exactly did you do to him?" Britain turned back to Russia and asked him.

"Oh I'm _so_ glad you asked! I steered the plane while little Canada shot down the enemy. He was quite good at it, and he didn't miss even when we flipped upside down. But the flipping upside down was so much fun, so I did it over and over and over again. (Britain face-palmed) The nice people said that we got a high score of a sort, but I actually remembered something when the blood was rushing to my head while I was hanging upside down for about a minute." Russia got a thoughtful look on his face. "May 7th, 1945...that was the day Germany surrendered to us during World War Two."

"Brilliant." Britain pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "It'll be fun trying to explain to Germany why we need his help."

"Oh no need! I can do it!" Russia reached for his phone but Britain stopped him before he could take it out.

"Ah, no. Perhaps I should do it." Britain hurriedly said and reached for his phone. He took it out and dialed Germany's number.

"Hallo, dies ist Deutschland." Germany replied in an even tone. "Can I help you?"

"Germany, old friend! Say, what do you think about a little field trip?"

* * *

Virginia hung up from her phone call. "DC says he saw Britain, Canada, and, get this, Russia, at the Smithsonian. He also said that Britain tried to choke him." America looked up startledly.

"What did he do this time?" He asked worriedly. Britain didn't usually strangle people without a really good reason.

"Knowing DC, he probably said something stupid." Virginia sighed and brought her knees up to her chest.

"Sounds like Russia came by to help you after all, though I shouldn't really be surprised. He was the one who terrified Britain and France into looking the other way while I was asking for their help." Confederacy noted thoughtfully as he leaned up against the window frame and casually glanced out the window to keep a lazy watch out.

"Dude, what's the point? What do you even gain out of this?" America finally mustered up the courage to ask Confederacy.

"Personal gain and my pride, something you wouldn't understand seeing as you never had to fight for respect." Confederacy turned his grey eyes on America.

"I feel like you don't know me at all," America stood up and walked over to his brother, who was still leaning on the window lazily as though he had nothing to worry about.

"I know you well enough." Confederacy turned his head away from America and turned to stare out the window once again.

"Apparently not, because if you really knew me you'd know that I fought long and hard to get to where I am today. Don't dismiss me just because I act childish." America said as calmly as he could and slowly reached into his back pocket in the hopes his pocket knife was in there. "You have the strength I lack, but I have more determination and persistence than you do." Confederacy sighed resignedly.

"Get your hand out of your pocket, America. Don't play me for a fool." Confederacy leaned his head back and shifted his position so he had one leg up on the window sill and the other resting casually off to the side.

"I don't know about you guys, but I have to pee...and some other stuff." America and Confederacy looked over at Virginia, who was giving them the most innocent look ever.

"You can hold it." Confederacy waved off and shook his head.

"I drank a twenty ounce diet coke not two hours ago...I _really_ have to pee." Virginia persisted earnestly.

"Good god!" Confederacy rolled his eyes and leaned back. "Down the hall, second door on the right."

"Thanks!" Virginia popped up and made a mad dash for the bathroom.

"So I heard about that incident that happened between you two in '05..." Confederacy said nonchalantly. America's face went bright red.

"What's it to you?" He snapped angrily.

"Is is true that she seriously-"

"Shut up. Just shut up before I hurt you." America growled and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Now, now, United States of America," Confederacy lingered on America's full name for a brief moment. "We both know you wouldn't do that." Confederacy gave America a wide grin, but his eyes held malice. "I swear upon my life, I will _never_ let such a horrible thing happen _ever_ again." America felt like a hole had been punched in his chest. How did Confederacy know so much? Especially about that one moment that America knew he'd never ever forget as time passed. What exactly had Confederacy been doing all these years?

"What happened to the brother that I used to know?" America gulped for air and managed to find the words to say, and his chest constricted while old memories that he had tried to bury deep down had surfaced.

"He grew up and realized that even though his ways were...wrong...it was _you_ who overreacted. It was _you_ who decided to fight back. You could have just let me do what I wanted, and then maybe later I would have seen an error of my ways...but no, you had to go and crush all my dreams." Confederacy jumped to his feet and poked America in the chest. "The only reason you beat me is because you played dirty."

"That's what war is!" America shouted at him, taking his own finger and pointing it at Confederacy's chest.

"War is not a way to express so-called superior ways over someone else!" Confederacy shouted back. "That much I've learned, Union, that much I've learned!"

"That war tore me apart!"

"That war **_destroyed_** me both literally _and_ figuratively!" Confederacy and America were nose to nose now and glaring daggers at each other.

"Guys?" Virginia poked her head out of the bathroom.

"What?!" Both boys turned on her and shouted in sync.

"I don't know if this is a good time or not...but the toilet's backed up." She replied softly under the glares of the brothers.

"I swear tuh gawd, Virginia, can't yuh do anythin' right?" Confederacy's anger pushed him to the point of his southern drawl becoming more and more pronounced. With a loud growl, he pushed his way past her to fix the toilet.

"Quick, before he comes back!" Virginia rushed up to America and shoved the phone in his hands. "Britain's on the second clue, right? Help him out!"

"I'd rather tell him where I-" America hesitated as Confederacy stuck his head out the bathroom door.

"Good lord, Virginia. What in the blazes did yuh eat?" He complained before popping back in.

"Refried beans and brussel sprouts!" She shouted out, then said in a whisper for only America to hear, "I flushed a pad down the toilet."

"You are one crazy chick." America couldn't help but grin stupidly as he turned on the phone and went into his texts.

_To British Dude:_

_No more joke. 5 down 5 across. Deu hlps. Friend?_

* * *

Translation:

pozhalyusta (пожалуйста) = please

-/-/-

ROC: "Anyaaaa~...your evil is showing!"

Me: "Where?! Oh haha...very funny random OC. -.- stay tuned for more news on two idiots and a state!"

ROC: "What about Britain and the others?"

Me: "Oh their reaction to Germany's reaction is going to be nigh priceless."

ROC: "Do tell!"

Me: "Shut up and let me write..."

-/-/-

Most of the stuff you heard about the Smithsonian's Air and Space museum was out of my own experience! Yes, that also does include the strangulation of a tour guide. However, I couldn't have Britain liking Hershey chocolate because honestly, American chocolate sucks...Hershey-wise. *raises hands up* I'm not trying to offend any Hersheys lovers out there! Please don't attack me with tomatoes! *straightens up and takes a deep breath* Well, we all know that European chocolate is a bajillion times better than American chocolate anyway! Go Belgium and Germany! Keep rocking that awesome chocolate! Oh, and the thing the tour guide said about a live missile? Totally not true, and also based off an experience of mine. My tour guide thought it would be funny to scare the living crap out of a 16 year old (that's how old I was at the time) by telling her the missiles were still live. I had nightmares about it for a week.


	4. No More Joke

Trying out some new formats! Sorry for the long lull in updates. The school year's almost over...finally...and I have two more days of finals left! I'm also trying to cope

with the fact that I'm going to be a senior next year. It means it'll be my last safety-net year. I'll be at the top of the school with my friends...now excuse me while I

mentally freak out. In the meantime, enjoy my next chapter!

* * *

At the absolute crack of dawn, a stereotypical camp wake up horn was sounded over the intercom. With a yelp, America rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a resounding thud. Mylova sat straight up in bed with a gasp of shock and then turned her gaze and stared quizically at America, who was busy rubbing the back of his head. Spain, well, he just pulled the covers up over his head and yelled at the horn to "va y joder sí (mismo)".

"Stand at attention!" A very authoritive voice shouted once the "song" was over. America, acting out of pure instinct, jumped to his feet and stood stiffly.

"Make me," Were Mylova's words as she yawned and flopped back down on the bed. America narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and then sat down.

"I don't wanna play your stupid games today." He grumbled and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh come on, America. We were getting along just smashingly and then you had to go and ruin it by saying no!" The voice complained with a hint of a taunt.

"Fuck off," America face-planted the floor and pulled his shirt over his head to use as earmuffs. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Does food entice you?" At that, a steaming dish of...oh my god I have absolutely no idea WHAT that stuff is! Well whatever it was, it was shoved into the room and America grabbed it. The look on his face told Mylova he was considering throwing it against the wall so she quickly stooped down and grabbed it before he could do such a thing.

"You don't want to eat that," Spain mumbled from underneath his bed sheets.

"Oh? ¿Por qué?" Mylova asked him.

"I can tell from just smelling it that it's no good." Spain uncovered his head and took a deep breath, then made a face. "Sí, no bueno."

"Hey! That took me an hour to make!" The same voice from before came back over the intercom.

"Lo siento, but you're a horrible cook." Spain said and buried himself underneath the covers again.

"You. Absolute. Ar-"

"Shut up!" A new voice growled.

"I don't-"

"No."

"Will you st-"

"Absolutely not."

"You won't even let-"

"Because I know what you're going to say."

"Idiot."

"Estan patético! Shut up about your stupido problemas already!" Mylova finally snapped. It takes a lot to irritate her, and she had finally been pushed to the edge. America's eyes widened as he realized how angry Mylova was.

"Um, Mylo?" He whispered softly.

"¿Qué?" Mylova turned to him and her eyes flashed dangerously. America cautiously got to his feet and walked over to her with his hands raised as if to ward her off.

"Maybe you want to take a deep breath," America attempted to calm her down.

"I will not calm down! These idiotas are irritating me to no end! I swear I am done!" Mylova turned angrily to the wall and started pounding on it. "Fin! Fin! Fin! FIN!" Spain looked up at the ruckus and for a moment he looked terrified.

"Hit the gas!" Someone said over the intercom. Then the world went fuzzy and black.

-/-/-

"Well this is unfortunate." A familiar sounding voice said. America moved his head and groggily looked up.

"Of~ course," America sighed and rolled his eyes. Sitting in front of him, rubbing his head and the back of his neck as though they pained him, was Russia. A slight movement to his right made America turn his head. Mylova's hand had twitched in her sleep. America looked around the room and saw that Spain was draped over the side of the bed as though he had tried to get up but had failed.

"Добрый вечер, Amerika!" Russia looked up greeted America happily.

"Yeah yeah, evenin' to you too, Ruskie." America shakily got to his feet and walked over to the door.

"I thought we have been over this before, Amerika. You do not call me Ruskie, I do not hit you over the head, da?" Russia lightly reprimanded the American. America started tapping lightly on the wall, much to Russia's amusement.

"Dude, I honestly could care less right now. I just want to get the fuck out of here." America replied and started feeling around the room for a soft spot. "Make yourself useful and find a weak point in the wall." Russia blinked in surprise at America's authoritative tone. Just because he had absolutely nothing better to do, though he was eyeing the Monopoly game in the corner, Russia decided to get up and help America.

"Mmm...no me gusta esos caballos. Yo quiero aquellos." Spain mumbled in his dream state.

"Pues, yo quiero tu cara." Mylova flipped over and fell to the floor. "Mierda!" Mylova woke up and looked around. "Um, Russia? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?" Russia fixed her with a confused look.

"She asked what you're doing here." America translated and continued his work on the walls. "If you start speaking in Russian, I will NOT translate. Just warning you." Russia just chuckled lightly and gave Mylova a sweet smile.

"I was, how you say...kidnapped." Russia explained and gave America a side glance. Said nation lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. America never said anything about Russia translating for himself. Mylova just nodded, the tired look in her eyes saying that she wanted to go back to sleep.

"Yo dude, I'm gonna need some of your help." America turned around and said to Russia.

"Oh? Pochemu?" Russia gave America the puppy eyes he was so famous for.

"Because I asked you politely, and you know I don't do that very often." America muttered and kicked the wall.

"I take it you want to kick down the wall?" Russia walked over and stood next to America so he could examine the same point on the wall.

"Um, da." America said in Russian (on accident...he was trying to say "duh" but failed because his mindset was in Russian). "Count of three. Ready? One...two...three!" Both America and Russia kicked at the wall at the same time in nearly the same spot. Their combined strength made the wall shudder but not cave. "Grrr...one, two, three!" They kicked again but to no avail.

"Dammit! They really did make this anti-me," America grumbled angrily and he started pacing the room agitatedly. By this time Mylova was recovering from the effects of the knockout gas and had stood up to formally greet Russia. The two were exchanging handshakes and words when America exclaimed angrily and kicked a chair all the way across the room. Mylova and Russia looked over startledly.

"This is a fucking mistake! They wanted me, and they got me. But they made a mistake, oh ho they made a mistake." Russia stared at the ranting American, his eyes wide. "They kidnapped someone of importance to me. Dude, when people mess with my states they pay the goddamn price!" Mylova blinked in surprise as she realized America was referring to her.

"Amerika are you alright?" Russia asked America, not even bothering to hide the concern in his voice. Russia had never seen America ever get this angry before. He knew captivity did weird things to a person's head; something that Russia had a lot of experience dealing with and dealing out.

"I'm stuck in a prison with a Russian, a Spaniard, and a state. The food sucks, I don't have a bed, the bathroom is crap, and there's no freaking toilet paper. Oh yeah, I'm just peachy, Russia." America replied sarcastically.

"You complain about no toilet paper? You should see the, what you call, restrooms at my place." Russia muttered to himself. Mylova walked up to America and placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"América you have dealt with worse. If it's really that big of a deal to you, you can have my bed-"

"Absolutely not!" America interrupted but Mylova just continued.

"What is the worst thing you have ever had to do?" Mylova asked him. For a moment America stared blankly at her, and then his eyes saddened as a memory came to mind. "Good. Now is this situation as bad as that one?" America shook his head. "Alright. Now on three, all of us kick the wall. Sí?" America blinked and nodded; following orders in bad situations was something he did well when he didn't want to be the hero. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out.

"Uno!" The three of them faced the wall. Spain stirred lightly and his eyes weakly fluttered open.

"Dos!" Spain attempted to focus his eyes, and when it worked he had to do a double take.

"Uh, Russia?" Spain wondered aloud.

"Oh? Привет, Spain!" Russia smiled and waved over at the sleepy Spaniard.

"Tres!" They all kicked. BOOM! Spain jumped out of bed and stared at the wall as it came tumbling down.

"Fall out!" America quickly ordered and grabbed Spain as the rest of them high-tailed it out of the room and down the hallway. Alarms started blaring but America somehow managed to stay focused as he barked out orders of "left!", "right!", "jump!", and "don't run into-, too late". Mylova had run into a wall but recovered quickly enough to curse a couple times before getting back to her feet.

"Dead ahead!" Mylova shouted as she saw a doorway.

"Uh, dude could you maybe not say dead?" America asked her and Mylova shrugged. They burst through the door, and apparently luck was with them because it led to the outside.

"Freedom!" America shouted happily and threw his arms in the air jubilantly. After running another mile, Mylova shouted at America to take a break...and he did, thank god.

"Oh dios mio! The sky!" Spain shouted and flopped over onto his back to stare up at the clouds.

"Well, we're safe here." Mylova sighed with an air of relief. Then realizing she still had the bandages on her head, she ripped them off and tossed them aside. All America saw now was a tiny scar where she had cut her head, which seemed to have healed far too quickly.

"Oh хорошо!" Russia smiled and clapped his hands together. "Now, where exactly is 'here'?"

* * *

Gracias for reading! Please forgive me...this is such a short chappie.

**Translations:**

_va y joder sí (mismo)= go and f*ck itself_ (I search long and hard for this translation...part of it coming from my own knowledge...but I've gotten so many contradictory translations that I'm going to get down on my hands and knees and beg a native Spanish speak to please please please help me)

_Estan patético= You guys are pathetic_

_Добрый вечер (English: Dobryy Vecher)= good evening_

_...no me gusta esos caballos. Yo quiero aquellos.= I don't like those horses. I want those (over there)._

_Pues, yo quiero tu cara.= Well, I want your face._

_Привет (privyet)= hello_

_хорошо= good_


	5. Paintings and 2x4's

Oh dear...please forgive me for not updating sooner. I've been really busy of late, touring around Europe and not having access to the internet (we weren't

allowed to while on tour...we needed to be occupied with something else; like maybe trying to learn some German *dies* which I didn't do so well on, sadly)

and then hopping on a new plane out to the east coast. So Much Traveling! And the jet lag when I got back from Europe was terrible -.-. I mean mein gott, it

took me 3 days just to get moderately used to American time again. Oh my god you should try Toblerone! It's this delicious Swiss Chocolate, milk chocolate,

with Almond Nougat. *mouth waters* I got so used to the taste of German/European chocolate while I was over there, that when I got back to the

states...well...nothing tastes as good anymore. Seriously! Just yesterday I got really lucky and saw these mini Toblerone chocolates while in a store (on the east

coast...never seen them in the west though. Please prove me wrong!) and I decided...heck, I'll get some AND a dove chocolate bar. Went back home...ate the

Toblerone first (delicious!), then I ate the Dove chocolate (it was a very disappointing piece of chocolate -.- and it tasted disgusting...and I LIKE Dove! at

least...I think I did...*sniff*).

Anyway, enough of my mindless chatter (Germany: What did I tell you about that?! / Me: *squeals* Sorry it won't happen again, sir!), and a Happy 4th of July

to my fellow Americans! Remember to party like there's no tomorrow! XD

_4th of July_: What used to just signify the declaration of American independence from Great Britain; now just an excuse for Americans to take a day off and party with lots of friends, alcohol, and complimentary fireworks. Not necessarily in that order! [Alcohol not included. Must be 21 years of age or older to buy it.][Friends also not included. BYOF! *bring your own friends*]

To everyone, I hope you forgive me for the lack of updates and I bring you capítulo numero cinco! *takes a deep bow and is booed off center stage* I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Прости меня! Lo siento!

* * *

"I don't understand." Britain scratched his head and looked around the gigantic museum. "What exactly are we looking for?" Every time he turned his head, he came face to face with either a work of art or a replica of an old relic.

"It's got to be something German, otherwise America wouldn't have said we would need Germany's help." Canada rationalized and turned towards Germany as though the German provided the solution to their problems.

"Dammit! The next clue should be right here!" Massachusetts' fist connected with the wall, as did her forehead. Britain could see the frustration coursing through her face as her limbs trembled. Her lips moved soundlessly as though she were muttering to herself.

"Don't you know where he is?" Britain leaned on the wall right next to the state.

"No. I was only told where to put the...clues. I never actually knew their location." Massachusetts brought her hands up to her face and she let out a shuddering sigh. "Something's wrong, I can just tell. But I can't figure out what."

"What exactly_ is_ this?" Everyone turned towards Germany, who was eyeing a painting rather closely. To Britain's eye, it looked like a finely painted picture depicting a sunset, planes, and men on the ground.

"Ein Weg der Trauer mussten sie Reisen, aus Gründen, die falsch waren. In Ketten und ihre Freunde verdoppelt, war der Weg 1000 Meilen lang." Germany was reading something that Britain couldn't see.

"Che? Where do you see that, Germany?" Italy was determinedly staring at the painting in order to see if he could figure out what Germany was looking at.

"A path of sadness they had to travel, for reasons that were wrong. In chains and doubled to their friends, the road was a thousand miles long." Britain turned to look at the state, who had translated what Germany said without a second thought. Her face had become devoid of all color and her hands trembled more violently. Her eyes stared blankly off into an unknown void, most likely dwelling on a buried memory, Britain assumed.

"Right here," Germany pointed to a spot on the canvas, enticing Britain to take a closer look. Sure enough, in tiny print, were German words. Britain had attempted a long time ago to learn German, but it didn't seem to come as naturally to him as Spanish or, god forbid, French. If that frog ever found out that he had managed to learn french, he would never hear the end of it.

"Well that's not bloody annoying at all." Britain muttered sarcastically to himself. "But what does that even mean?" He mulled the words over in his head many more times, but none of it flipped a switch. If it had to do with history, he should know it. Obviously Massachusetts knew it because she was trembling and her eyes were staring off into oblivion. "Hey, git. What does it mean?" Not even his derogatory term managed to get through to her, so he instead resorted to waving his hand in front of her face.

"She can speak German?" Germany narrowed his eyes at the state. Something about Germany's expression unsettled Britain and he involuntarily shivered slightly.

"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch." Massachusetts took a deep breath and looked over at Germany. "America makes us learn all the different languages of the world. He says that it's the only way we can be more open to the rest of the world. Every state has to learn at the very least of German, French, Italian, Portuguese, Chinese, Japanese, and Russian. Spanish is something a lot of the southern states know naturally, whereas the northern states have to learn it. We can pick it up pretty easily, though."

"First conversation you've had since your little moment back there." Britain mused as his emerald eyes widened in a bit of shock that America, of all the people, actually required his states to learn the different languages of the world. However, Massachusetts just ignored him and looked towards the painting. A few times she muttered some of the words aloud to herself, but everytime she said something, the dull look just re-introduced itself into her eyes. Suddenly she picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Ayudarme, por favor. Es, um, complicado...pues yo necesito tu experienca. Donde? Eh, el museo de historia. Espacio y...aire? Ah, si. Rapidamente, sil vous plait." Massachusetts hung up after a very short conversation and gave a shuddering sigh. She closed her eyes and ran a shaking hand through her blonde hair, making some loose strands fall over her eyes. Britain had caught the little bit of French at the end there and honestly wondered why she switched to French after talking in Spanish the whole damn time. _'She's a strange girl...'_ He thought to himself and tilted his head curiously. For a while they all stood there; Massachusetts sinking back further into her slight depression every other minute. Italy was whispering some things to Germany that Britain couldn't discern, though he wasn't quite certain if he wanted to know what they were talking about.

"Dude, what's wrong?" A familiar face charged over to them and grabbed Massachusetts by the shoulders. _Good god, that's the tour guide from the Air and Space museum!_ Britain thought as he eyed the person. _Wait a second..._

"A path of sadness they had to travel, for reasons that were wrong. In chains and doubled to their friends, the road was a thousand miles long." Massachusetts looked up at the person and blinked slowly. "Is this what I think it is?" The other person took a step backwards.

"You don't mean?"

"The Trail of Tears..." Massachusetts' voice cracked and she averted her eyes to the floor.

"One of our bad moments in history." The person said softly. "Take a deep breath, okay? Try to relax. The past is the past and you can't change it."

"I know that, DC...it's just that-"

"DC? I thought I knew your face!" Britain exclaimed and strode up to the two Americans. "And what tear trail? What the hell are you two talking about?"

"The Trail of Tears. The forced relocation of the Native Americans out west; the Indian Removal Act of 1830, commissioned by Andrew Jackson. More or less, a death march." DC replied and placed a hand on Massachusetts' shoulder as she buried her face into DC's chest. "All of America's states at the time, and myself included, were forced to carry it out. It was...really hard to watch them march thousands of miles into the west and it broke our hearts, both literally and figuratively, when we saw them die. All we wanted to do was help them. And America...he was devastated; locked himself in his house for a good year when it was all over." Britain shuddered as he pictured all of that happening. _Why had he never known about that? Did America keep that secret for a reason? Oh lad...we've all done terrible things in our time, so why keep it a secret? I...well...we could have helped you get through it._

"I suppose you should look for your next clue now before Massachusetts has a panic attack. Come on, let me show you to the Trail of Tears exhibit." DC motioned for them to follow him as he steered Massachusetts down a hallway. Britain followed blindly as he continued to think about it all, while Russia considered poking him to bring him back to reality. To himself, DC muttered, "I know it's you, Confederacy. Stop hiding behind these stupid clues and come out and face us. Or are you scared?"

-/-

Meanwhile back in the wonderful world of containment, Confederacy sneezed. "Hahah...someone must be talking about me." He grinned and leaned back in his chair. America and Virginia were napping in a corner, exhausted from their last escape attempt. A makeshift bandage was covering Virginia's hand and for a fleeting moment, regret flashed through Confederacy's conscience. Turns out he fractured it slightly. _Dammit, I didn't really intend for that to happen. What would her sister think? I liked that girl._

"I really did." Confederacy spoke his last thought out loud and he glanced nervously over at the corner to see if the two had heard him. Nope; thank god. He sighed and shook his head, mentally punishing himself for worrying about them and he self-consciously rubbed his back where Virginia had smacked him well with the leg of a broken table. _How original. At the very least you could have used a 2x4...now that would have been cartoon worthy. _He snickered as his mind flashed back to a random Tom and Jerry cartoon that he had recently seen; the one with the cat, the dog, and the mouse all hitting each other at once. _Hey, maybe I can use something like that next! Or not...seeing as they wouldn't exactly take it very seriously._ Confederacy contemplated his next move carefully. _Fort Sumter? Perhaps...or maybe the Anaconda Plan. What about Wounded Knee? Oh geez that might be a bit harsh; I'll take it._

* * *

Hey~...uh...I know the German up there probably isn't correct at all, so if you speak German, do you think you could help me fix that? Please? Thank you in advance!

**Spanish Translation:**

_"Ayudarme, por favor. Es, um, complicado...pues yo necesito tu experienca. Donde? Eh, el museo de historia. Espacio y...aire? Ah, si. Rapidamente, sil vous plait."_

"Help me, please. It's, um, complicated...well I need your expertise. Where? Eh, the history museum. Space and...air? Ah, yes. Quickly, if you please(french)."

**The Trail of Tears:** The route along which the United States government forced several tribes of Native Americans, including the Cherokees, Seminoles, Chickasaws, Choctaws, and Creeks, to migrate to reservations west of the Mississippi River in the 1820s, 1830s, and 1840s.

They had no right...no right at all. No US president has ever apologized for this act...ever. I can assure you that we're not a perfect nation contrary to the popular American belief. I love my country, but I don't love its past tbh. I have a friend who is part Chickasaw and every time this topic is brought up, she gets this really angry face (mostly because she love that side of her with a burning passion and hates the history that the early Americans had with them. She loves the French because they were nice to the natives). *sighs* It's my life...it's now or never...thank you, Bon Jovi.

I hope you all have an awesome rest of your day! ^.^


End file.
